Demon Inside
by oKay2beme
Summary: It hit him before he could do anything to stop it.  He doesn't remember how it happened, but he does remember what happened and how it made him feel.  One-shot tag to "Devil's Trap" from John's POV.


**Talk about risky! I'm not sure if you guys are going to like this one, but I had to post it before I went crazy. I came up with this one-shot tag to "Devil's Trap" a few days ago while I was watching it. I know it's a little choppy and scattered, but I hope you can understand what I was trying to do. **

**Special thank you to my awesome beta, mstngsali1 for helping me improve and develop my ideas. **

**A/N: Any and all mistakes are mine, including lines from the episode that are not in here. (I'm pretty sure most of us have already seen this episode and can piece it together.)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Supernatural" or any recognizable characters. **

**Demon Inside**

My brain instantly realizes that I must be in a bed somewhere because I can feel the comfortable, fluffy pillow behind my head. It's soft and inviting, and for a moment, there's nothing wrong with the world. I struggle to get up when I notice my hands and feet are tied. My wrists struggle to break free, but my efforts are futile as the rough rope rubs against my skin. I try to open my eyes to get a better look at my current situation, but my head is heavy, my eyelids droop and stubbornly remain that way.

I don't know how long I've been laying there: could be hours, could be days. I think about my boys and begin to panic. They must be worried about me. I didn't call them after my meeting with Meg in Lincoln. Son of a bitch. Meg. I bet she's to blame for this. No, I know she's to blame for this. And if she got me, she could easily get to the boys.

Realizing this fear, my brain kicks into protective mode and my body struggles to get up. I use every ounce of energy my exhausted body can muster to get out of the bed. But there's something else: something pushing me down, keeping me in place. I can't see it, but I can feel it. It's stronger than me; more persuasive and powerful than I am. Hoping and praying Sam and Dean figure out a way to find me, I let the force take over, and I succumb to unconsciousness.

:::~:::~:::

I hear noises coming from the other side of the bedroom door. It almost sounds like whoever is on the other side is fighting someone. Muffled moans and screams of pain come from the kitchen and living area. I want to get up and help whoever is out there, but something keeps me down. I am unable to move my hands, legs, head or any other body part. Every fiber of my being is screaming, pleading to get up. Someone in the other room needs my help. But all I can do is lie here.

Suddenly, there is a hand on my chest, shaking me awake. I hear my son's voice, trying to pull me out of my sleepy state.

"Dad!" It's Dean. I can tell by the panic in his voice. He continues to try to shake me awake.

"Dean, he could be possessed for all we know."

"What are you nuts?"

"Dean, we have to be sure."

Sam. I'm not surprised my youngest son thinks I'm possessed. I feel something cold on my chest. Water maybe? Holy water. Good thinking, Sammy. I'm sure I wasn't the only one relieved when my flesh didn't start steaming. No signs of possession, just a wet shirt.

I let out a soft grunt, like I'm being woken up by a crying child in the middle of the night. "Sam, why are you splashing water on me?"

"Dad." It's Dean again. I open my eyes wide enough to see him standing over me, blinking a few times before the focus on his face. I was right: panic, fear, worry. Since when was he the parent? I thought that was my job. He's cutting the rope to bail me out of there. What a good little soldier.

"They been druggin' me." I try to pick my head up, but it's still to heavy. Drugs make sense. How else could anyone explain this?

"Where's the Colt?" I ask, afraid of the answer.

"Don't worry, Dad. It's safe."

"Good boys...good boys."

Dean finally gets me free. I'm up and out of bed with their help, but unable to stand on my own. My arms are up and around their necks, holding me up. We try to get out of there as quickly as possible, but there's someone coming through the front door. We stop, back track and lock ourselves in the bedroom.

"Fire escape," Dean suggests.

Before I know it, I'm out the window on the fire escape. Dean's right behind me, followed by Sam who lays down a healthy salt line at the now open window. Dean climbs down the ladder, and once he's on the ground, Sam helps me slide into Dean's arms. Sam follows suit, runs into the alleyway towards where Dean parked the Impala. He's sidelined by that demon bastard from Lincoln; the same guy who was with Meg. He knocks my youngest down and starts using him as a punching bag. I can't get up to help or protect him, but Dean can. He leaves my side in an instant, and runs over to help his brother. Unfortunately, all he seems to do is piss the demon off and is tossed into a windshield.

Then I hear it. A shot is fired somewhere near me. My brain tells me to take cover and protect my own ass, but I still can't move. I turn my head and see Dean standing with the Colt in his hand, the end of the barrel still smoking. The demon is dead and Sam is safe. For the first time, I can't read my eldest's face. He's expressionless and blank. He gets Sam up off the ground and they run back to me. We quickly turn away, walking briskly down the alley.

:::~:::~:::

I know Dean used a bullet from the Colt. I know he used it to save his brother. I know he thinks I'm angry at him, and truth be told, part of me is. They told me the Colt was safe. They told me they were only going to use it on the demon, not just any ol' one. They told be they'd be careful and that they'd look out for each other. That last one was a given, whether I told them to or not.

Maybe that's why I didn't rip into Dean like he expected me to. I knew he was protecting his brother. His Sammy. The one thing the boy has made sure of his entire life. Dean knew I'd deal with him later. But to be honest, I couldn't imagine fighting with him about this. Sure I was upset he used a bullet, but mad? No. I couldn't be mad at him. He was doing the one thing I told him to do. Always, always, no matter what, watch out for Sammy.

I'm feeling better. They were smart enough to take us as far away as possible, hoping that no one followed us. I guess they do listen to me when I speak. I hear Dean talking to Sam in the next room.

"...it scares me sometimes." I walk in at the end of his confession.

"It shouldn't."

He looks up at me, concern and worry in his eyes. He thinks I'm going to yell at him.

"You're not mad?"

"For what?"

"For using a bullet."

"Mad?" I shake my head in disbelief. "I'm proud of you."

I can tell he's shocked.

"You know Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you, you watch out for this family. You always have."

"Thanks."

The lights start flickering. I get excited, and I don't understand why. I feel anxious, like something is trying to crawl out of my skin.

I'm at the window before I know my body was moving.

"It's here. It found us."

"The demon."

"Sam, salt lines at every window and door."

"Already done."

"Yeah, well check it." Sam obeys his father and leaves us. Now it's just me and Dean.

"Dean, you got the gun?"

"Yeah."

"Give it to me."

He hesitates, staring down at the gun in his hands. It's not like him to stall. Not when I give him a direct order. And especially not when it comes to the demon. I know he's sensing something is wrong. Something is different.

"Give me the gun. What are you doing Dean?" I try to keep my voice stern and normal. My nerves are exploding and I feel myself fighting to maintain control.

"He'd be furious. He wouldn't be proud of me, he'd tear me a new one." He raises his arm, gun in hand. He cocks the antique revolver in one swift move, like he's done a thousand times before, looks me in the eye and says, "You're not my Dad."

He's onto me. He's figured it out, he's just not sure what. I've always taken Sam to be the smart one, but Dean never ceases to amaze me. Sam returns to find his brother about to shoot their father. He's just as shocked as I thought he'd be.

"Dean?"

"Your brother's lost his mind," I say.

"He's not Dad."

"What?" Even Sammy doesn't believe him.

"I think he's possessed."

"What?" That's it Sammy. Keep questioning your brother. Make him

second-guess himself. You know I'm not possessed. It's not possible. You tested me back in Jefferson City. The holy water had no effect, remember?

"He's...different." Like I said, he never ceases to amaze me.

"Well then if you're so sure, shoot me."

There he goes again. Hesitating and rethinking the situation. Ya know, over-thinking can get you into trouble, right Dean? You know that better than anyone. Go with your gut. Shoot your father.

"I thought so."

:::~:::~:::

My control is gone. I'm not me anymore. I can't think, speak, act or move for myself. My senses recognize and my brain processes what's going on around me, but it's all out of my control. I'm screaming on the inside, trying to break free. I don't know what's happening, but I do know that my boys are in danger. And I can't bear to watch.

"Ya know, I could have killed you a hundred times today, but this, this was worth the wait."

It's not me speaking. It's the demon. Yellow eyes. My blood boils at the thought of him possessing me like this, and trapping my boys to get to me. He turns my head and I see Dean, pressed up against the cabin wall, but he doesn't know I can see him.

"You're Daddy, he's in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat-suit."

I'm praying Dean doesn't listen to him. It's not me talking. You were right, son. You were right. I can't control it.

"He says 'hi' by the way. He's gonna tear you apart. He's gonna taste the iron in your blood."

"Let him go." He's scared. For the first time in a long time, I can see the fear in my son's eyes. He's afraid of me. No, he's afraid of the demon wearing me. "Or I swear to God..."

"What are you and God gonna do?" The demon moves me away from the window. He's standing right in front of Dean. I can feel my son's breath on my face. He's facing it, just like I taught him to. He's facing me.

I couldn't help it. The words just come out. "You know, you fight for this family, but the truth is: they don't need you. Not like you need them." The words hurt Dean to hear them as much as they hurt me to say them.

I'm screaming at the top of my lungs. Dean knows it's not true. Demons lie, remember son? He's lying to you. I would never, ever say that! Of course we need you. Don't let him tell you otherwise.

"How would you feel if I killed your family?"

No, not Mary. How could you bring this up? Dean doesn't talk about it. He never talks about it. Please don't.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot. I did." The words escaped my lips before I could stop them.

"You son of a bitch." Classy Dean.

Mary. I want to cry. I want to scream. I've never wanted to kill this thing, this monster, more in my entire life than now. I was always too blind to see the pain my sons experienced; what they went through without Mary. Her death was always a touchy subject, especially with Dean. As soon as anyone brought her up, he'd shut down, clam up and there's no breaking him. I guess that was just a phase. He's all grown up now. And instead of holding it inside, he gets angry.

"I wanna know why." Sammy boy, I forgot you were here.

"You mean why I killed Mommy and pretty little Jess?"

"Yeah."

"Ya know, I don't know if you know this, but Sam was planning on marrying her. Been shopping for rings and everything." No, of course Dean didn't know. He didn't know his Sammy was planning to start a life with Jessica. He didn't know he was serious about this girl. Hell, Dean didn't even know she existed until that night in Palo Alto.

"You wanna know why. Because they got in the way."

"In the way of what?"

"My plans for you, Sammy. You, and all the children like you." Even as the words leave my lips, I can't believe my own ears.

Sam's voice is angry and rough. "I'm gonna kill you."

The demon forces an evil smile across my face.

"You mind getting this over with because I really can't stand the monologuing."

"Funny. But that's all part of your M.O. Mask the pain. Mask the truth. You know Sam, he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you're real proud of your kids too. Oh that's right. I wasted 'em."

It's angry. I can feel it's anger rise inside me. I've never felt this amount of anger, frustration, hate before in my life. My blood boils and my heart pounds. The demons eyes, my eyes, are pouring into Dean's. I knew the demon wouldn't stand for it: being mocked like that. Not while it was running the show. He was pissed off. He wanted revenge. And Dean was the perfect target.

Next thing I know, I hear Dean crying out in pain. He's panting hard and his chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath. In seconds, his shirt is saturated with the free-flowing blood from the demon-made hole in his chest.

"Dad, don't you let it kill me."

The demon steps it up a notch and I know he's killing my son.

No. I'm killing my son. And there's nothing I can do to stop it.

He's pleading with me, begging me to make it stop. Blood fills his mouth, and begins dripping down his chin.

I scream at the demon. My head nearly explodes as my blood rushes to my brain. Let go of him! Stop it! But he doesn't let go. He keeps me at bay and takes his frustrations out on Dean while I watch on helplessly. I hear Sam calling for his brother in the background. We're both trapped. Unable to move, unable to act.

Around a mouthful of blood, he manages to choke out, "Dad, please."

Dean's hit with another wave of pain before he loses consciousness. His head lolls and his chin rests on his shredded chest.

"Stop it," I whisper, finally getting my control back. I'm free from the demon. And so are my boys.

There's blood everywhere. Dean's on the floor at my feet, awake and fighting for air. Sam breaks free, rushes to the table where the Colt is laying, and grabs it. He's aiming at me, but I know he sees the demon. It's taken over again and wants to go after my other son. For all I know, Dean could be...No. I refuse to believe it. My ears pick up on the soft gurgling noises he's making as he breathes. My instincts tell me to go over and help him, but the demon has other plans.

"You kill me, you kill Daddy." It's the demon speaking, but he's using my voice. He's taunting Sam, tricking him into killing me.

"I know." Sam fires and hits my leg. I'm down on the ground, leg wound bleeding steadily.

Sam is at Dean's side in an instant. "Dean, oh God. You've lost a lot of blood."

"Where's Dad?"

"He's right here Dean."

"Go check on him."

Sam listens to his brother. He knows Dean isn't going anywhere and won't rest easy till he knows I'm okay. I wonder where he gets it from.

Sam's hovering over me. I sense him. I fight the demon to keep it from taking over again.

"Sammy! It's inside me! I can feel it!"

My warning scares my youngest. Shock and fear cloud his senses. He doesn't listen to me. He doesn't hear me talking, shouting to him, ordering him. He blocks it all out. Except Dean.

"Sam, don't you do it," I hear my eldest use whatever strength he as left to whisper to his brother. "Don't you do it!"

He seriously considers it. Maybe he could kill the demon but only wound his father. I know that's not possible. The demon is inside me now. I feel it crawling inside my skin, itching to get out. He's got to kill it. He's got to kill me.

"Sam, no."

He's hesitating. Just like Dean. I know he won't shoot me; won't put a bullet in my heart like I ask him so we can end this nightmare. He won't kill his father. He's no killer. My Sam is no killer. Dean's Sammy is no killer.

I'll never know whether he was actually going to take my advice for once and shoot. Before he makes his next move, I lose my battle with the demon. Instead of climbing back in the driver's seat, it escapes. I hear myself scream. I see the black smoke flying out of my mouth and exit through the cracks between the floorboards.

My head hits the floor in defeat. I feel tears streaming down my cheeks. I can smell blood in the air. I know it's Dean's. It churns my stomach and makes my heart ache. Dean's on the other side of the room, bleeding out onto the cold, wooden floor. I'm scared for him. I'm scared for Sammy. And I'm disappointed in him.

He should have killed it. We were so close. I had it in my grasp: it was inside me, gnawing at me. It might have been our only chance to kill that yellow-eyed son of a bitch.

It might have been Sam's only chance to fight the demon inside him.


End file.
